Love, Park Avenue Style
I press down the backspace button and watch as my fifth attempt at a topic sentence deletes itself letter by letter. Jean Piaget... what to say, what to say?
I slouch back, rolling my neck on the top of the chair, and stare out at the gray clouds drifting slowly above the roofs of the brown-stones across the street. George bats at my dangling1 hand. "Piaget," I say out loud, waiting for inspiration to hit as I dart2 my hand at him playfully. The phone rings and I let the machine pick it up. Either it'll be Mrs. X calling to check if I have any lifeblood she hasn't sucked yet or my mother calling to weigh in on the situation.
"Hi, this is Charlene and Nan. Leave a message."
"Hey, working girl. I just want-" My favorite voice fills the room and I reach across my desk to grab the phone.
"Hi, yourself."
"Hey! What are you doing home at one forty-three on a Tuesday?"
"What are you doing, calling me all the way from Haa-vaad, at one forty-three on a Tuesday?" I push back my chair and trace a wide circle on the hardwood floor with my socks.
"I asked you first."
"Well, turns out Jean Georges lost the Xes' reservations for Valentine's Day so she immediately sent me home with a typed-up list of four-star restaurants to harass4." I look over at my backpack, where the document remains5 folded away.
"Why didn't she just call them herself?"
"I have long since ceased to ask why."
"So, where did you make them?"
"Nowhere! Valentine's Day is tomorrow. I suppose she's in denial that these places only take reservations thirty days in advance and that she already made me spend January fourteenth-a Sunday, thank you very much-calling them. And even then all I could get her was a ten P.M; and I had to swear to the reservationist on my firstborn that I'd have them out by eleven. Yup, no go. They'll be lucky to get a booth at Burger King." I picture Mr. X absentmindedly dunking his fries in ketchup6 as he reads the business section.
"So have you found the panties?"
"No. You're going to be really sad when we no longer need to talk about panties, aren't you?" He laughs.
"Actually," I continue, "yesterday we had a false alarm in which yours truly dove headfirst onto Snoopy's magician cape7 in a blind panic."
"They may not be black, you know. You should really try to think outside the box-they could be pastel or tiger print or see-through-"
"See! You enjoy this conversation way too much," I admonish8.
"So then what are you doing if you're not making reservations or hunting panties?"
"Trying to write a paper on Jean Piaget."
"Ah, yes, Jean."
"What, you haven't heard of him? And they call that pile of bricks an Ivy9 League."
"Not an Ivy League, dahling, the Ivy League-" he says, affecting a Thurston Howell III lockjaw.
"Right. Well, he's the grandfather of child psychology10, so to speak. I'm writing on his theory of egocentrism-how children see the physical world exclusively from their own, limited perspective."
"Sounds like your boss."
"Yes, and interestingly, she can't wash her hair by herself, either. There's probably some sort of study here. Ugh! I'm just in total procrastination11 mode. Being given the luxury of a whole free afternoon makes me feel like I have time to dawdle12. Anyway, enough about me, to what do I owe the pleasure of this phone call?"
The phone beeps loudly, interrupting him.
"-about this internship13. This guy came to speak today and it was pretty amazing. He-"
BEEP.
"-war crimes in Croatia. So there's a tribunal at The Hague to
BEEP. No machine to protect me now.
"I'm sorry! Hold on one sec?" I press the flash button and hold my breath.
"Nanny! I'm so glad I caught you." Mrs. X's voice brings me back from my midday rendezvous15. "I'm thinking Petrossian because it's really mostly caviar and I think most people expect a full meal for this occasion. But that's fine for us! Have you already called them? You should call them next. Can you? Call them right now?"
"Sure. I'm holding with Le Cirque on the other line so-"
"Oh! Fabulous16! Okay. Well, see if they even have something by the kitchen, we'll take that."
"Great. I'll let you know."
"Wait! Nanny! Well, don't say the kitchen thing right away, see if they have something better and then, you know, if there isn't anything better, then ask about the kitchen."
"Oh, okay, sure, I'll keep at it. I'll let you know as soon as I find something."
"All right. You know you can reach me on my cell, too." I sense she is getting ready, once again, to give me her number.
"Okay, great. I've got your numbers right here. Bye." I click back over. "Sorry, where were we? Something about criminals?" I move to my bed and lift George onto my stomach.
"Yeah, so I think I'm going to apply for this internship at The Hague for the summer. After this class on the conflict in Croatia it would be amazing to get closer to it, you know? To be able to do something. I mean, it's totally competitive, but I think I might give it a shot." Swoon.
"I'm swooning."
"Good." There is a warm silence between us. "Anyway, as soon as I got out of class, I had to call and tell you about it."
"Now that's the part I like."
"It sucks that you have to work Valentine's. I really want to hang out with you."
"Yeah, well, I'm not the one going to Cancun for spring break."
"Come on, how was I supposed to know I was going to meet you?"
"Don't even try to use not being psychic17 as a defense18."
Despite the many phone calls, talking is about as far as we've gotten since the museum. First he had exams, then I had Grayer's flu-not exactly sexy. Two weekends ago he came down for the night, but Charlene's flight was canceled and I ended up making a romantic dinner for four. I thought of going up there, but he has three roommates and I refuse to have my first night with him be (a) punctuated19 by the sounds of Marilyn Manson blaring through the wall at three A.M. and (b) followed by a morning of watching them make coffee, using their underwear as a filter. Killing20 me.
BEEP.
"Shit. Sorry! Hold on one more time." I click over. "Hello??" I say, bracing21 myself.
"So? Is it by the kitchen?" She is slightly breathless.
"What? No, um, I'm still on hold with them."
"Petrossian?"
"No, Le Cirque. I'll call you just as soon as I get through."
"All right. But remember, don't start with the kitchen question. And I was thinking that you should try '21', it's unromantic. Maybe they'll still have something. So '21' next, okay? Well, Petrossian would be next and then '21'. Yes, '21' is my third choice."
"Great! I should get back to Le Cirque."
"Yes, yes. Call me the minute you know."
"Bye!" Deep breath. Click over. "Yes, hanging out. That would work for me."
"Good to know. Hey, I've got to run to my next class. Listen, I'll definitely be home in April for a few days, we'll figure something out. Good luck with Jean."
"Hey!" I catch him before he hangs up. "I think The Hague is really great."
"Well, I think you're really great. I'll call you later. Bye."
"Bye!" I hang up and George stretches from where he has been curled up by my head and jumps off the bed onto the floor.
The phone rings again. I stare at the machine.
"... Charlene and Nan. Please leave a message."
"This is your mother. You may not recognize me as it is not two in the morning and you do not have a suffocating22 child on your lap, but I assure you that I am one and the same. Listen, bud, today, tomorrow, next week, we will have this conversation. In the meantime I leave you with two little words of wisdom regarding this job of yours. 'Not okay.' I love you. Over and out." Right, this job of mine. What to do about this reservation thing?
"Grandma?"
"Darling!"
"I need to get a table for two for Valentine's dinner anywhere that they don't have paper place mats. What can you do for me?"
"Going right for the jackpot today, are we? Can't we start with something smaller, like an afternoon wearing the crown jewels?"
"I know, it's for Grayer's mom. It's a long story, but she's going to hunt me until I get her a seat somewhere."
"That earmuffs woman? She doesn't deserve the crumbs23 off your plate."
"I know, but can you please just wave your magic wand for me?"
"Hmm, call Maurice at Lutece and tell him I'll send him the recipe for the cheesecake next week."
"You rock, Grandma."
"No, darling, I swing. Love you."
"Love you, too." One more call and it's back to les petites ego-centrics.
The city is on Valentine's overdrive as I walk over to Elizabeth Arden to meet my grandmother. Since the last Christmas decoration came down in January every store has had a Valentine's theme in the window; even the hardware store has a red toilet-seat cover on display. In Februaries past I would wait with exasperation24 on line behind men and women buying oysters/champagne/condoms, when I only wanted to pay for my grapefruit/beer/Kleenex and get on with my life. This year, I've got nothing but patience.
This is the very first Valentine's Day on which I have not been single. However, in observance of the traditional survival agenda for the one-day-when-being-single-is-just-not-okay, Sarah and I mailed each other Tiger Beat pinups and I am accompanying Grandma to our annual pampering25.
"Darling, Saint Valentine's Rule Number One," she imparts as we sip26 our lemon water and admire our lacquered toes. "It's more important to show yourself a little love than to have a man who gives you something in the wrong size and color."
"Thanks for the pedicure, Gram."
"Anytime, darling. I'm going to go back upstairs for my seaweed wrap. Let's just hope they don't forget me like last time. Really, they should put a little buzzer27 in your hand. Imagine being found, covered in seaweed and wrapped in a tarp by some poor janitor28. Rule Number Two: Never take the last appointment of the day."
I thank her profusely29, bundle up, bid her farewell, and go to pick up my hot date from nursery school. He comes running out at noon, holding a large, crooked30 paper heart that leaves a trail of glitter behind him.
"It's a Valentine. I made it. You can hold it." I take the heart and pass him the juice box I've been keeping warm in my pocket as he settles in the stroller.
I look down at the heart, assuming it's for Mrs. X. "Mrs. Butters spelled for me. I told her what to say and she spelled for me. Read it, Nanny, read it."
I almost can't speak. "I LOVE NANNY FROM GRAYER ADDISON X."
"Yup. That's what I said."
"It's beautiful, Grover. Thank you," I say, starting to get teary behind the stroller.
"You can hold it," he offers as he grips the juice box.
"You know what? I'm going to put it safely in the stroller pocket so it doesn't get hurt. We've got a special afternoon ahead of us."
Despite the fact that it's one of the coldest days of the year, I'm under strict instruction not to bring him home until after French class. So I've made an executive decision to ignore all the usual guidelines and take him to California Pizza Kitchen for lunch and then down Third Avenue to the new Muppet movie. I was worried he might be scared of the dark, but he sings and claps all the way through.
"That was so funny, Nanny. So funny," he says, as I buckle32 him back into his stroller and we sing the theme song all the way to French class.
After I drop him off with Mme. Maxime to faire les Valentines I run across Madison to Barneys to pick up a little something for H. H.
"Can I help you?" the notoriously bitchy blonde behind the Kiehl's counter half asks, half spits. She has never been forgiven for once accusing Sarah of shoplifting the toner she was trying to return.
"No, thanks, just browsing33." I set my sights on another salesperson34, a tall Eurasian man in an expensive-looking black shirt. "Hi, I'm looking for a Valentine's present for my boyfriend." I love saying it. Boyfriend, boyfriend, boyfriend. Yeah, I have the cutest boyfriend. My boyfriend doesn't like wool socks. Oh, my boyfriend works at The Hague, too!
"Okay, well, what kind of products does he prefer?" Right, I'm back.
"Oh, I don't know. Um, he smells nice. He shaves. Maybe some shave stuff?"
He shows me every conceivable product an aspiring35 model pulling in extra cash at Barneys might ever want to use.
"Um, really? Lip liner?" I ask. "Because he plays lacrosse .. ."
He shakes his head at my shortsightedness and pulls out more esoteric pastes and lotions36.
"I don't want to imply that there's anything wrong with him, you know, give him something that fixes anything. He doesn't need fixing." I finally settle on a stainless37 steel razor and watch him wrap it in red tissue paper and tie a red bow around the black box. Parfait.
I greet Grayer outside his classroom with his coat held out. "Bonsoir, Monsieur X. Comment ca va?"
"Ca va tres bien, Nanny. Merci beaucoup. Et vous?" he asks, waving his magic fingers at me.
"Oui, oui, tres bien."
Maxime leans her head out of the classroom to the row of cubbies where I'm bundling Grayer. "Grayer is really coming along with his verbs." She smiles down at him from atop her Charles Jourdan pumps. "But if you could take some time with him to practice the noun list each week, that would be fantastique. If either you or your husband-"
"Oh, I'm not his mother."
"Ah, mon Dieu! Je m'excuse."
"Non, non, pas de problem," I say.
"Alors, see you next week, Grayer."
I try to push him home quickly because a frigid38 wind is whipping down Park.
"As soon as we get upstairs," I say, crouching39 in the elevator to loosen his scarf, "I'm going to put some Vaseline on your cheeks, okay? You're getting a little chapped."
"Okay. What are we going to do tonight, Nanny? Let's fly! Yeah, I think we should fly as soon as we get upstairs." Lately I've been balancing him on my feet and "flying" him in his room.
"After bath, G, that's flying time." I push the stroller over the threshold. "What do you want for dinner?"
I'm hanging up our coats when Mrs. X walks into the front hall in a floor-length red evening gown and Velcro curlers, already in the heat of preparation for her Valentine dinner date with Mr. X.
"Hi, guys. Did you have a good day?"
"Happy Valentine's Day, Mommy!" Grayer shouts in greeting.
"Happy Valentine's Day. Oops, be careful of Mommy's dress."
"Wow, you look beautiful," I say, pulling off my boots.
"You think so?" She looks down in consternation41 at her midriff. "I still have a little time-Mr. X's flight from Chicago doesn't land for another half hour. Could you come help me for a minute?"
"Sure. I was just going to get dinner started. I think Grayer's pretty hungry."
"Oh. Well, why don't you just order something in? There's money in the drawer." Well, I never.
"Great! Grayer, why don't you come help me order?" I keep a hidden stash42 of menus in the laundry room for emergencies.
"Pizza! I want pizza, Nanny! Pleeeaaase?"
I raise an eyebrow43 at him because he knows I can't say "But you had pizza for lunch" in front of his mother.
"Great. Nanny, why don't you call for a pizza, pop in a v-i-d-e-o and then come help me," she says as she leaves the room.
"Hahaha, pizza, Nanny, we're having pizza," he laughs and claps wildly at his unbelievable good fortune.
"Mrs. X?" I push the door open.
"In here!" she calls out from the dressing44 room. She's standing45 in another floor-length red gown and there's a third hanging up behind her.
"Oh, my God! Wow, it's beautiful." This one has thicker straps46 and red velvet47 leaf appliques trailing around the skirt. The color is a stunning48 combination with her thick black hair.
She looks in the mirror and shakes her head. "No, it's just not right." I look carefully at her in the dress. I realize I've never seen her arms or sternum before. She looks like a ballet dancer, tiny and all sinew. But she isn't filling out the dress in the bust49 and it's hanging all wrong.
"I think maybe it's the bustline," I say tentatively.
She nods her head. "Breast-feeding," she says derisively50. "Let me try on the third. Would you like some wine?" I notice the open bottle of Sancerre on the dresser.
"No, thank you. I shouldn't."
"Oh, come on. Go take a glass off the bar."
I walk through to the piano room where I can hear the strains of "I'm Madeline! I'm Madeline!" coming from the library.
When I get back she's come out in a beautiful Napoleonic raw-silk gown, looking like Josephine.
"Oh, much better," I say. "The empire waist really suits you."
"Yeah, but it isn't very sexy, is it?"
"Well... no, it's beautiful, but it depends on the look you're going for."
"Breathtaking, Nanny. I want to be breathtaking." We both smile as she slips behind the Chinese screen. "I've got one more."
"Are you going to keep all of these?" I eye the zeros on the dangling price tags.
"No, of course not. I'll return the ones I don't wear. Oh, that reminds me." She sticks her head around the screen. "Can you take the rest back to Bergdorf's for me tomorrow?"
"No problem. I can do it while Grayer's at his play date." "Great. Can you zip me?" she calls out. I put down my wine and go around to zip her into a stunningly51 sexy 1930s red sheath, "Yes," we both say as soon as she looks in the mirror.
"It's beautiful," I say. And mean it. It's the first one that uses her proportions to its advantage, making her look sylphlike, rather than emaciated52. Looking at her reflection, I realize that I am rooting for her, rooting for them.
"So what do you think? Earrings53 or no earrings? I need to wear this necklace because my husband gave it to me." She holds up a strand54 of diamonds. "Isn't it beautiful? But I don't want to overaccessorize."
"Do you have any little studs?"
She starts going through her jewelry55 box and I take my wine over to the velvet bench.
"These?" She holds up a pair of diamond studs-"Or these?"- and rubies56.
"No, definitely the diamonds. You don't want to overdo57 the red."
"I went to Chanel today and got the perfect lipstick58 and look!" She sticks out her foot. Her toes are painted in Chanel Redcoat.
"Perfect," I say, taking a sip. She puts in the studs and gives herself a quick swipe with the lipstick.
"What do you think?" She turns for me. "Oh, wait!" She goes over to the Manolo Blahnik bag on the floor and pulls out a box containing a pair of exquisite59 black silk sandals. "Too much?"
"No, no. They're gorgeous," I say, as she slips them on and turns for me again.
"So, what do you think? Anything missing?"
"Well, I'd take the curlers out." She laughs. "No, really, it's perfect." I give her another once-over. "Um, it's just that..."
"What?"
She quickly looks backward in the mirror. "Oh, my God. You're right." She starts rifling through the plastic bags in her lingerie drawer. "I think Mr. X gave me a pair on our honeymoon61." Oh, brilliant, Nan! Brill-i-ant! Send her combing through the panty drawer.
"You can always go commando," I suggest urgently from the velvet bench where I'm downing the rest of my wine.
"Got 'em!" she says and holds up an exquisite, delicate black La Perla thong with cream silk embroidery62, which I am pray-ing is hers.
The doorbell rings. "NANNYYY! The pizza's here!"
"Thanks, Grayer!" I call back.
"These will do. I'm all set. Thank you so much."
After Grayer and I polish off half a medium pie I remove a small cardboard box from my backpack. "And now a special Valentine's dessert," I say, producing two chocolate cupcakes with red hearts on them. Grayer's eyes widen at the departure from chopped fruit and soy cookies. I pour us each a glass of milk and we dig in.
"Oh, what have we here?" We both freeze, cupcakes midway to our mouths.
"Nanny bwought thpecial walentine's cucakes," Grayer explains defensively with a mouth full of chocolate.
Mrs. X has pulled her long hair up into a loose chignon and finished her makeup63. She looks lovely. "Oh, that's so nice. Did you thank Nanny?"
"Thank you," he sprays.
"The car should be here any minute." She perches64 on the edge of the banquette, every muscle tensed for the intercom buzzer. She reminds me of myself in high school, all dressed up, just waiting to get the call to find out whose parents were out of town, where we were meeting, where he was going to be.
We awkwardly finish our cupcakes while she sits anxiously beside us.
"Well.. ." She stands as I'm cleaning Grov off before releasing him from his booster seat. "I'm just going to go wait in my office. Will you let me know when they buzz up?" She exits, taking a quick glance backward at the intercom.
"Of course," I say, wondering just how late Mr. X will dare to push it.
"Okay, let's fly now, Nanny. Let's fly-can we?" He puts his arms out and does circles around me as I clear the plates.
"G, you might be a little full. Why don't you go get your coloring books and we'll hang out in here so we can hear the buzzer, okay?"
For an hour Grayer and I sit in silence, passing crayons back and forth65, looking up intermittently66 at the silent intercom.
At eight o'clock Mrs. X calls me into her office. She's sitting on the edge of her office chair, an old Vogue67 open on the desk. Her mink68 lies waiting on the armchair.
"Nanny, would you call Justine to find out if she knows anything? The number's on the emergency list in the pantry."
"Sure, no problem."
I don't get an answer at work so I try her cell phone.
"Hello?" I can hear silverware clanking in the background and hate that I'm interrupting her Valentine's dinner.
"Hello, Justine? It's Nanny. I'm so sorry to bother you, but Mr. X is running late and I was wondering if you might know what flight he's on."
"That's all back at the office-"
"Mrs. X is just getting a little anxious," I say, trying to impart the urgency of the situation.
"Nanny! I can't find the red crayon!" Grayer calls from the banquette.
"Look, um, I'm sure he'll be in touch." There's a pause wherein I hear the restaurant in full swing behind her. "I'm sorry, Nanny, I really can't help you." And then I just know, I know it in the pit of my stomach.
"Naa-nny, I'm stuck. I need the red!"
"Okay, thanks."
"Well?" Mrs. X asks from over my shoulder.
"Justine wasn't in the office so she doesn't have his itinerary69." I walk around her to search through the bucket of crayons on the table, while Grayer slumps70 over his coloring book. Maybe this is it. Maybe I should just say something. But what? What do I actually know for a fact, here, really? What I know is that Ms. Chicago was here over a month ago-things could've changed since then. How do I know he's not just running late? "Hey, why don't you check the Weather Channel?" I suggest, bending down to retrieve71 the red crayon, which has rolled under the bench. "Maybe there are delays out of O'Hare?" I reach my arm up over the table and place the crayon next to Grayer's fist. I stand back up. "I'll call the airline. Who does he fly?"
"Justine would know. Oh, and can you call Lutece and make sure they don't give away our reservation?" She walks hurriedly out toward the library. Grayer slides down and runs across the floor to follow her.
Justine's voice mail comes on three times, but, as she's basically left me to fend72 for myself, I keep calling.
"Hello?" She sounds annoyed.
"Justine, I'm so sorry. What airline does he fly?"
"American. But Nanny, I really wouldn't..." Her voice trails off.
"What?"
"I'm sure he'll call. I wouldn't bother to ..."
"Okay. Well, thanks, bye."
I get the number from information, because I don't know what else to do.
"Hello, thank you for calling American Airlines. This is Wendy speaking. How may I help you?"
"Hello. Yes, I'm calling to find out if there any delays on the flights from Chicago to New York tonight, or if a passenger X changed his flight?"
"I'm sorry, but I can't give out information on particular passengers."
"Well, can you tell me if there are any delays?"
"Hold on, I'll check." The other line beeps.
"Hello, this is the Xes' residence. May I ask who's calling please?" I say.
"Who's this?" a male voice asks.
"Hi, it's Nanny-"
"Who?"
"Nanny-"
"Whatever. Listen, tell Mrs. X my plane is snowed in here in Chicago. I'll call her tomorrow."
"I'm sure she'd like to talk to-"
"Can't now." The line goes dead.
I click back.
"Hello, miss? Thanks for holding. There are no delays. All flights are running on schedule."
"Thank you," I say, hanging up. Shit. Shit. Shit.
I walk slowly through the living room and go stand outside the library, where Mrs. X and Grayer are seated on the navy leather couch, studying the weather in the Midwest.
"So stay tuned73, because after the break we'll be talking to Cindy in Little Springs about what it's doing on her back porch," a perky voice says from the television. I feel queasy74.
"Nanny?" She rounds the door frame, nearly knocking into me. "It just occurred to me-call Justine and get the number of his hotel. The weather's fine-maybe his meeting ran late."
"Urn3, actually Mr. X just called on the other line, while I was on hold with the airline, and that's what he said. His meeting ran late. So he said he'll call tomorrow night and, uh-"
She raises her palm up to silence me. "Why didn't you come get me?"
"He, um, he said he had to go-"
"I see." She presses her lips together. "And what else did he say?"
I can feel small beads75 of perspiration76 rolling down my sides. "He said, um, he was just going to spend the night there." I cast my eyes down to avoid her gaze.
She takes a step closer. "Nanny, I want you. To tell me. Exactly. What he said."
Please don't make me do this.
"Well?" She waits for an answer.
"He said he was snowed in and he'll call you tomorrow," I say quietly.
I glance up. She looks as if I've just slapped her and I return my eyes to the floor. She walks back into the library, picks up the remote and turns off the television, silencing and darkening the room. She remains immobile, silhouetted78 against the lights of Park Avenue, her red silk gown shimmering79 in the somber80 blue room, her hand still gripping the remote.
Grayer's wide eyes stare up at me in the darkness from where he sits, hands carefully crossed in his lap. "Come on, Grayer. Let's get ready for bed." I extend my hand and he wriggles81 off the couch and follows me without protest.
He is uncharacteristically quiet while we brush teeth and put on pajamas82. I read him Maisy Goes to Bed about a little mouse with a simple mission.
" 'Maisy brushed her teeth.' Did Grayer brush his teeth?"
"Yes."
" 'Maisy washed her face and hands.' Did Grayer wash his face and hands?"
"Yes." And so on until he's yawning and his eyes are opening and closing.
I stand to kiss him on the forehead and realize his hand is clenching83 my sweater. I gently uncurl his fingers. "Good night, Grover."
I walk tentatively out into the cold, gray light of the marble foyer. "Mrs. X?" I call out. "I'm leaving. Okay?" No answer.
I walk down the long, dark hall to her bedroom, through the numerous hot pools of light illuminating84 the paintings.
The door is open. "Mrs. X?" I enter her bedroom and can hear the sound of muffled85 crying coming from behind the closed dressing-room door. "Um, Mrs. X? Grayer's asleep. Do you need anything?" Quiet. "I'm just gonna go, okay?" I stand right up against the door and can hear her weeping quietly on the other side. The image of her curled up on the floor in her beautiful gown makes me put my hands to my chest.
"Nanny?" a voice, straining to sound cheerful, calls out. "Is that you?"
"Yes." I pick up our empty wine glasses from the bedside table, careful to keep them from clinking.
"Okay, you go on ahead. See you tomorrow."
"Um, there's still some pizza left. Do you want me to warm it up for you?"
"No, that's okay. Good night."
"Are you sure? 'Cause it's no trouble."
"No, that's really fine. See you tomorrow."
"Okay, good night." I walk back down the long beige hall to the kitchen, place the glasses in the sink, and put out a fruit plate, just in case. I decide to wait till I get downstairs to cancel their expired reservation.
I go back into the hall, grab my coat and boots, and pull my paper heart out from Grayer's stroller pocket. It sprinkles the black-and-white tile with a light dusting of red glitter. I kneel and press my hand over the sparkles, quickly lifting them up and brushing them into my backpack.
Her low sobs86 give way to a deep, animal-like keening as I gently close the door behind me.
They all felt that there was no sense in their living together, and that any group of people, who had met together by chance at an inn would have had more in common than they, the members of the Oblonsky family and their servants. The wife did not leave her own rooms and the husband stayed away from home all day. The children strayed all over the house, not knowing what to do with themselves.
-ANNA KARENINA
收听单词发音 |
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dangling
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| 悬吊着( dangle的现在分词 )； 摆动不定； 用某事物诱惑…； 吊胃口 | |
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dart
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| v.猛冲，投掷；n.飞镖，猛冲 | |
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urn
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| n.（有座脚的）瓮；坟墓；骨灰瓮 | |
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harass
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| vt.使烦恼，折磨，骚扰 | |
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remains
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| n.剩余物，残留物；遗体，遗迹 | |
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ketchup
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| n.蕃茄酱，蕃茄沙司 | |
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cape
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| n.海角，岬；披肩，短披风 | |
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8
admonish
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| v.训戒；警告；劝告 | |
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9
ivy
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| n.常青藤，常春藤 | |
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psychology
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| n.心理，心理学，心理状态 | |
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procrastination
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| n.拖延，耽搁 | |
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12
dawdle
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| vi.浪费时间；闲荡 | |
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13
internship
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| n.实习医师，实习医师期 | |
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14
prosecute
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| vt.告发；进行；vi.告发，起诉，作检察官 | |
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rendezvous
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| n.约会，约会地点，汇合点；vi.汇合，集合；vt.使汇合，使在汇合地点相遇 | |
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fabulous
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| adj.极好的；极为巨大的；寓言中的，传说中的 | |
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psychic
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| n.对超自然力敏感的人；adj.有超自然力的 | |
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defense
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| n.防御，保卫；[pl.]防务工事；辩护，答辩 | |
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punctuated
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| v.（在文字中）加标点符号，加标点( punctuate的过去式和过去分词 )；不时打断某事物 | |
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killing
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| n.巨额利润；突然赚大钱，发大财 | |
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bracing
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| adj.令人振奋的 | |
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suffocating
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| a.使人窒息的 | |
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23
crumbs
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| int. (表示惊讶)哎呀 n. 碎屑 名词crumb的复数形式 | |
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exasperation
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| n.愤慨 | |
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pampering
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| v.纵容，宠，娇养( pamper的现在分词 ) | |
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sip
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| v.小口地喝，抿，呷；n.一小口的量 | |
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buzzer
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| n.蜂鸣器；汽笛 | |
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janitor
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| n.看门人，管门人 | |
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profusely
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| ad.abundantly | |
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crooked
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| adj.弯曲的；不诚实的，狡猾的，不正当的 | |
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buddy
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| n.（美口）密友，伙伴 | |
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buckle
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| n.扣子，带扣；v.把...扣住，由于压力而弯曲 | |
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browsing
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| v.吃草( browse的现在分词 )；随意翻阅；（在商店里）随便看看；（在计算机上）浏览信息 | |
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salesperson
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| n.售货员，营业员，店员 | |
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aspiring
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| adj.有志气的；有抱负的；高耸的v.渴望；追求 | |
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lotions
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| n.洗液，洗剂，护肤液( lotion的名词复数 ) | |
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stainless
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| adj.无瑕疵的，不锈的 | |
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frigid
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| adj.寒冷的，凛冽的；冷淡的；拘禁的 | |
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crouching
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| v.屈膝，蹲伏( crouch的现在分词 ) | |
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40
spatula
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| n.抹刀 | |
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41
consternation
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| n.大为吃惊，惊骇 | |
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42
stash
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| v.藏或贮存于一秘密处所；n.隐藏处 | |
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eyebrow
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| n.眉毛，眉 | |
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dressing
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| n.(食物)调料；包扎伤口的用品，敷料 | |
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standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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straps
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| n.带子( strap的名词复数 )；挎带；肩带；背带v.用皮带捆扎( strap的第三人称单数 )；用皮带抽打；包扎；给…打绷带 | |
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velvet
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| n.丝绒，天鹅绒；adj.丝绒制的，柔软的 | |
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stunning
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| adj.极好的；使人晕倒的 | |
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49
bust
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| vt.打破；vi.爆裂；n.半身像；胸部 | |
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derisively
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| adv. 嘲笑地，嘲弄地 | |
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51
stunningly
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| ad.令人目瞪口呆地；惊人地 | |
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52
emaciated
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| adj.衰弱的，消瘦的 | |
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53
earrings
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| n.耳环( earring的名词复数 )；耳坠子 | |
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strand
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| vt.使（船）搁浅，使（某人）困于（某地） | |
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jewelry
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| n.（jewllery）（总称）珠宝 | |
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rubies
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| 红宝石( ruby的名词复数 )； 红宝石色，深红色 | |
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overdo
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| vt.把...做得过头，演得过火 | |
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58
lipstick
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| n.口红，唇膏 | |
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exquisite
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| adj.精美的；敏锐的；剧烈的，感觉强烈的 | |
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thong
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| n.皮带；皮鞭；v.装皮带 | |
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61
honeymoon
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| n.蜜月（假期）；vi.度蜜月 | |
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62
embroidery
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| n.绣花，刺绣；绣制品 | |
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63
makeup
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| n.组织；性格；化装品 | |
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64
perches
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| 栖息处( perch的名词复数 )； 栖枝； 高处； 鲈鱼 | |
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forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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intermittently
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| adv.间歇地；断断续续 | |
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67
Vogue
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| n.时髦，时尚；adj.流行的 | |
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68
mink
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| n.貂，貂皮 | |
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itinerary
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| n.行程表，旅行路线；旅行计划 | |
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slumps
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| 萧条期( slump的名词复数 )； （个人、球队等的）低潮状态； （销售量、价格、价值等的）骤降； 猛跌 | |
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71
retrieve
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| vt.重新得到，收回；挽回，补救；检索 | |
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fend
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| v.照料（自己），（自己）谋生，挡开，避开 | |
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tuned
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| adj.调谐的，已调谐的v.调音( tune的过去式和过去分词 )；调整；（给收音机、电视等）调谐；使协调 | |
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74
queasy
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| adj.易呕的 | |
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75
beads
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| n.（空心）小珠子( bead的名词复数 )；水珠；珠子项链 | |
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76
perspiration
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| n.汗水；出汗 | |
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77
shudders
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| n.颤动，打颤，战栗( shudder的名词复数 )v.战栗( shudder的第三人称单数 )；发抖；（机器、车辆等）突然震动；颤动 | |
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silhouetted
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| 显出轮廓的，显示影像的 | |
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shimmering
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| v.闪闪发光，发微光( shimmer的现在分词 ) | |
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somber
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| adj.昏暗的，阴天的，阴森的，忧郁的 | |
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81
wriggles
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| n.蠕动，扭动( wriggle的名词复数 )v.扭动，蠕动，蜿蜒行进( wriggle的第三人称单数 )；（使身体某一部位）扭动；耍滑不做，逃避（应做的事等） | |
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82
pajamas
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| n.睡衣裤 | |
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83
clenching
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| v.紧握，抓紧，咬紧( clench的现在分词 ) | |
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84
illuminating
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| a.富于启发性的，有助阐明的 | |
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85
muffled
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| adj.（声音）被隔的；听不太清的；（衣服）裹严的；蒙住的v.压抑，捂住( muffle的过去式和过去分词 )；用厚厚的衣帽包着（自己） | |
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86
sobs
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| 啜泣（声），呜咽（声）( sob的名词复数 ) | |
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